


The Reveal - Sam

by Animal_Arithmetic



Series: Upon These Golden Sands I Built My House of Dreams [23]
Category: Supernatural, The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Secrets, M/M, Mentions of past child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:26:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22963111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Animal_Arithmetic/pseuds/Animal_Arithmetic
Summary: The Rivia family tells Sam the family secrets.He doesn't take it well.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Upon These Golden Sands I Built My House of Dreams [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1614880
Comments: 12
Kudos: 402





	The Reveal - Sam

**Author's Note:**

> Super angsty this time. Sorry? lol I have for sure at least one more angsty one, maybe two.

“Samm—Sam,” came a tentative voice from his doorway. Sam looked up to see mom standing there, fiddling with his fingers, looking extremely nervous. “Can we talk to you?”

“Uh... Yeah, I guess.” Sam shut his book and turned to face mom, wondering where the “we” were.

Mom winced. “Uh. In the living room?”

“Everything okay?”

Mom took a shuddering breath, wincing even harder and shutting his eyes tight, as if that would make the problem go away. “We need to tell you some things.”

“Is dad okay?” he asked, shooting up. “He didn’t have another heat stroke or seizure again, did he?” It had been a year since the first scare, but Sam was always concerned that it would happen again since dad always worked too hard.

“No—I mean, yes—I mean, he’s fine,” mom stumbled over his words. “It’s—It’s about you, and your brother.”

What _about_ them? Why did mom have to be so cryptic all the time, anyway? Still, he hurried to follow him to the living room where dad sat on one couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, and his brother was curled on the other couch, throw pillow clutched tight in his arms between his knees and chest. He was rocking, just barely, hardly enough to be noticeable. But Sam knew he only did that when mom wasn’t able to comfort him, whatever it was that was bothering him.

Shit.

Sam hesitantly sat next to his brother, across from mom. “Okay...” he said slowly, looking at all three of them. “What’s going on?”

Mom drew in a shaky breath, tapping his fingers against his knees and doing his best to keep his gaze on Sam, even though Sam could tell he wanted to run out of the room as fast as possible. “We’ve been keeping a few secrets from you,” mom said slowly. “And we think you’re... mature enough to hear them, now. But what we talk about cannot be spoken of outside of us, Bobby, or Crowly, understood? Geralt?”

Irritation bubbled underneath his skin. They’d been _lying_ to him? About _what_?

Dad sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. Dean still wouldn’t look at him—and was the rocking getting more noticeable? “You know your birth mother died when you were just six months old. What you don’t know is that she was murdered for protecting you against a demon who fed you demon blood to turn you into a better vessel for Lucifer.”

What the **_fuck_**. “ _Excuse_ me?”

“Geralt! You could have said it gentler!”

“He was a Prince of Hell,” dad continued, just a little louder. “He was sent to create an army. Sam, you’re Lucifer’s vessel. Dean is Michael’s. Heaven spent thousands of years to create the perfect bloodline so they could have the perfect vessels to have some sort of showdown so the Angels could have Paradise on Earth. Crowley told us.”

“And you believe him?” Sam shouted, standing and clenching his fist, wanting so desperately to _hit_ something.

Dad nodded once. “I do.”

Something rattled on the table, but Sam ignored it. So, what? He was created to destroy the world? He was created to house _Lucifer_ , of all things? _Why_? Did that make him—Did that mean he was bad? Was evil?

“I need you to calm down, sweet pea,” said mom, reaching out a hand as if he were wanting to touch him. “You’re—You’re making the furniture move.”

Once he noticed, the trembling stopped and the furniture settled down again. Dad had said he had special powers and had been starting to work with him on how to control them... Was it because of the demon blood?

“It’s okay, Sammy,” Dean croaked, still curled up in his tiny little ball. “They can’t release Lucifer unless I break the first seal. So as long as I don’t do that, you’re okay. You won’t be his vessel.”

“What’s the first seal? What does that mean?”

“I’d have to torture souls in Hell, or something. There’s—I guess there’s lots of seals,” Dean said quietly. “But only so many have to be broken? But I have to break that first one first.”

Oh. So, that wasn’t as bad as he thought. Sam sank back onto the couch. Dean wouldn’t go to Hell, so that first seal wouldn’t break, right? Okay, so, he was the devil’s vessel. Cool. Cool. He could handle that. He could! He could be mature like his parents thought he was. It was—sucky, but he could live with that.

“We’re working to make sure nothing will happen to you two,” mom added. “We’re working with Crowley and Hell to make sure you two stay safe.”

And to think—Heaven was the bad guy. Sam snorted. “Yeah, okay,” he said, running his nails back and forth over his jeans. “Fine. Okay. I mean, that’s kind of a huge thing, but. But we’ll get through it, right?”

“That’s right!” said mom with a smile that was a little too forced. But then he cringed and bit his bottom lip. “That’s—That’s not all. Geralt?”

Dad sighed again. “I’m not... Alright. Let me back up. Ten years before you were born, I saved your mother and her boyfriend at the time from one of the Princes of Hell.” His hands trembled a little and he clasped them, but Sam didn’t have time to worry about that when dad continued speaking. “I saved them, and I claimed the Law of Surprise. It’s a very, very old law and I was stupid to claim it since I knew it usually resulted in a child. So, for saving both of them, I received two children—you and Dean.”

Wait. Something about that didn’t add up. “I don’t get it,” Sam said, failing to hide his bafflement. “Why would you get your own children? Do you mean that she just gave birth to the two of us?”

“Honey. Sweet pea.” Mom’s bottom lip was red and abused from biting so hard at it. “Geralt... isn’t biologically your father.”

Say what now?

“But...” Sam turned to Dean who was watching out of the corner of his eye. Dean didn’t speak, but he gave Sam a tiny nod, confirming he’d heard right. Something cold laced through his chest. How could he—how could they—

“The Law of Surprise dictates that you’re mine.”

“So you—You stole us from our dad, then?”

“No, sweet pea—”

“Don’t call me that!”

The candy dish shattered at his scream.

He was in his room, slamming the door behind him, ignoring their pleas and protests before he even realized he had moved. Fuck. _Fuck_. What had happened to his real dad, then? What else was a lie? Did they even love him? Why? _Why_?

He screamed and screamed and screamed until the furniture and the trinkets and books and pencils and window rattled and shook and until he could feel the power rush through him and the foundations beneath his feet trembled. He took his chair and flung it across the room, reveling in how it shattered against the wall and the splinters rained down.

He needed to leave.

But where?

Didn’t matter. He grabbed his suitcase and stuffed his clothes and some books in there. He’d worry about money and stuff later, but he needed to get out, needed to not be there anymore—

Dean was leaning against the wall beside his door when he came out. He didn’t speak—didn’t even look surprised—he just held out a hand with the keys to his car hanging on one finger.

Begrudgingly, Sam followed him to his car, slamming the trunk and the door once he got in.

Dean still didn’t speak as he pulled out of the driveway, weaving out of their neighborhood, finally pulling onto the interstate with the radio blaring. Sam didn’t speak, either. He couldn’t be mad at Dean—he had probably been sworn to secrecy, or threatened, or brainwashed, perhaps. Dean hadn’t been the one to steal them away from their real dad. Dean hadn’t been the one to lie his whole life on purpose. Dean wouldn’t do that to him.

“Where are we going?” Sam finally asked after an hour of silence. He had turned the radio off so they could speak and his ears rang.

“Bobby’s,” Dean croaked. “Figured you needed to cool off. Mom and dad know.”

“How can you call them that?” Sam demanded, turning so he could watch his brother. Dean, of course, kept his eyes focused on the road in front of them. “After everything! They stole us from our real dad!”

“Is that what you think happened?”

And how was it that Dean could look even _more_ devastated, sound so fucking _wrecked_ , just from that tiny question?

“Then why wouldn’t we be with him?” Sam demanded angrily, clenching his fist to tamp the power begging to leak out. He could feel it bubbling under his skin, thrumming through his veins. “Why couldn’t he raise us with them unless they _stole_ us?”

“John Winchester is not a good man.”

John Winchester was their real dad? But what did Dean mean by _that_? _Surely_ he was—was brainwashed! “That’s probably what they wanted you to think—”

Dean drew in a shaky breath. Sam could see tears threatening to fall as Dean pulled over on the shoulder. Cars whizzed past, unconcerned, hurtling towards wherever they needed to go, completely unaware of his world crashing down around him. Dean brushed away his tears, breathing deep and evenly. Sam had seen mom—Jaskier, or whoever the fuck he _really_ was—help Dean with breathing exercises when he would get panicked or upset. Dean was even slightly rocking and Sam wanted to reach out and comfort him, but he didn’t know _how_.

“John,” Dean finally croaked out, gulping and clenching his hands around the steering wheel and squeezing his eyes so tight that tears fell. “He was not a good man. I—I remember, how it was when mom died. I remember before, and how he would yell and leave for days at a time. And I would ask mom if we could have a new dad.” He choked on his breath, coughing as he tried to even his breathing again. Sam was frozen in his seat, watching as his brother broke down beside him. There was nothing he could do. “I remember, after she died, that I would wake up crying and screaming from nightmares and wanting him to comfort me and he would—he would yell at me and tell me to shut up and grab me so _hard_. I had bruises for _months_ after he left. I was terrified of him. I was so scared, _all the time_. And that’s how I got my selective mutism. Because I was _so fucking scared_ to talk or make any noise that I just— _couldn’t_.” He broke off into more desperate sobs, hiding his face in his hands as he wept, rocking back and forth even more to soothe himself because no one else would comfort him.

And Sam couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t—

“Mom and dad _saved_ us,” Dean finally was able to choke out, voice muffled behind his hands. “They _saved_ us, Sammy. If—If they hadn’t claimed the Law of Surprise, we’d be with John. Or we’d be dead. Or something. I don’t know. But—” Another choked sob as he gasped, trying to slow his breathing. “That first night—That first night, after John left without saying goodbye—I woke up from nightmares again. And they—they didn’t yell at me, or hurt me. They cuddled me, and mom ran his fingers through my hair, and they told me that I would be okay, that I was safe, that they loved me. That John wouldn’t ever hurt me again and they would keep me safe from the man who murdered mom.

“When John left, that was the first night I had finished my dinner and asked for more, mom told me,” he continued. The rocking had finally stopped and he lowered his hands, brushing away his tears. Sam could only stare, enraptured by Dean's words. He took another deep, shaky breath. “And then they settled down, even though they were used to always moving. They settled down to give us stability and happiness. So we wouldn’t always be the new kid, always left out. Dad got an actual job. Mom took care of us—fed us, clothed us, played with us, taught us, _loved_ us. They put me in therapy for _years_ to help me deal with mom's death and what John did to me.

“They did not make him leave,” he said in a low, angry voice. He looked even angrier, gripping hard at the steering wheel. “He left because he wanted revenge more than he loved us. He didn’t even say _goodbye_ , Sammy. Just—Just _left_. Gave dad all of our stuff and fucked off to who knows where without looking back.”

Another shaky breath, and then another, and then Dean was looking over at him, tears running down his face. Dean reached out, cupping his face and running his thumb over Sam’s cheek, brushing away tears he hadn't even known had fallen. “And I’m so— _so_ glad that they claimed Law of Surprise. I’m grateful that they came when they did—that they took us from him. And just because they aren’t biologically related to us doesn’t mean they aren’t family. They’re still our parents, no matter how that came to be. But John is not our father. He doesn’t deserve it.”

Sam couldn’t look at Dean anymore—couldn’t see the sadness or the hope or the—he just couldn’t. He didn’t want to be crying, but—

Dean wouldn’t lie to him. Not about something this important.

“I—I’m sorry,” he finally stuttered out. “I didn’t know.”

Dean shrugged, finally pulling his hand away. “We didn’t want you to know. But with telling you about the vessel thing, we felt like we should.”

“I can’t believe you kept that from me.”

“Which part?”

“All of it?”

Dean gave him a _look_. “We were waiting until you were mature enough to handle it. Obviously, we were a little early.”

Sam glared back. “Pretty sure I would have tried to run away no matter when you told me.” He wiped away the rest of the tears on his face.

“I don’t think you’re making a good argument for yourself.”

“Whatever.”

They were quiet for a moment, watching the cars speed past. Each car sent their car rocking in their wake. Sam wasn’t quite sure what to say, but he figured he probably owed his parents an apology for lashing out like that. But he didn't know if he was ready to face them quiet yet.

“They’re working on a way to stop it,” Dean said quietly. “They’ve been working on a solution for years. But the angels are being all hush-hush about their plans, now that all the Princes are dead.”

“I thought angels were supposed to be the good guys.”

Dean shrugged and turned on the blinker to merge back onto the interstate. “Dunno, Sammy. Couldn’t tell ya.”

“Hmm.”

They were quiet again as Dean pulled back onto the road. Did Sam really want to go all the way to Bobby’s? That was a couple days of driving, and it wasn’t really fair to drag his brother into driving him all that way, even if he had offered. There was an exit coming up for a diner.

Maybe...

“Can you pull off at this exit?”

Dean shot him a quick, confused look, but turned on his blinker and exited anyway. “Sure? What for?”

“I don’t... think I want to go to Bobby’s,” Sam said slowly. “But I’m not ready to go home yet, either.”

Nodding with an exaggerated frown, Dean turned towards the diner. “Fair enough, Sammy. Take however long you need.”

“But I feel bad for you wasting your time...”

Dean waited to park before he turned to Sam with a grin. “Any time spent with you isn’t a waste. Now, let’s go get some burgers.” He held up a hand before Sam could protest. “Ah-ah! You’re getting a burger. It’s comfort food and greasy food is always good when your soul is hurting.”

Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes as he opened the door. He waited until he met Dean at the front of the car and they were making their way towards the front door before saying, “Oh, yeah? What if salads are my comfort food, huh?”

“Apple pie is comfort food,” Dean replied. “Rabbit food is not.”

“Uh huh. _Sure_.”

And maybe things weren’t quite okay anymore. Sam wasn’t exactly sure what all this meant—if it made him a different person, knowing what he knew now, or what—but at least he had his brother. And hopefully his parents weren’t too upset with him, either.

But, as Dean said, they loved him. And, he supposed, that was a good start.


End file.
